


Calendar

by Santi_C



Series: Calendar [1]
Category: Hollyoaks
Genre: Gen, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-21
Updated: 2019-03-21
Packaged: 2019-11-26 14:50:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18182018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Santi_C/pseuds/Santi_C
Summary: Multi-chapter/separate stories:First, based after New Year's when Harry was trying to get James back.





	1. January

**Author's Note:**

> Each chapter was/is devised in the month of the chapter title. Chapters are standalone stories and not entirely canonical.
> 
> January and February were published previously elsewhere so skip through if they look familiar.

James almost spilled his coffee as he too literally tried to shake his thoughts. “Damn it,” he cursed under his breath, putting his cup down and checking his front for wet patches despite knowing he’d not spilled a drop. He’d been thinking of Harry again, imagined he’d shown up at the front door and they’d kissed without either having to say a word. It was fantasy in more ways than one - he’d sent Harry away, boxes in-hand and despite pure intentions, he’d regretted it ever since, not his decision but not knowing if the Lovedays would still have him or whether he’d have to struggle again to find a bed each night. He hoped very much it was the former.

He hadn't seen Harry since that day a fortnight ago though and in a small village, that was a bad sign. Maybe he’s just keeping his distance, he mused. Maybe he’s avoiding me. He wouldn't blame him if so, what must he think of James for pulling him in close with one arm only to push him away with the other? Harry had been hopeful that they could all live under one roof, come to terms with things together but James was used to dealing with things alone and honestly, he didn't know how he’d handle it either way - best stick to what you know and not further muddy things. All he knew for sure is he couldn't have focused on his son whilst Harry was there, the emotions involved were too conflicting. How could he feel happy about his relationship when his son was in such dire straits? How could he give his heart to both at once, in such totally different ways?

It had been going well with Romeo, they talked, they bonded, they continued to get to know each other, but inside James was terrified by it all. One wrong move, one stray sentence and it could all come crashing down. He felt he was walking on eggshells, just trying so hard not to ruin it. Romeo already mistrusted him, Mac had gotten his claws into him before he’d gotten the chance to mess things up himself, and his son storming out remained a constant possibility. James didn't know how to move past that and get their relationship to a level that seemed less fragile. All he could hope for was that time would do his bidding.

All the while, not a day had gone by - no, not a waking hour - that he’d not thought of Harry and what could have been. When he woke up hard in the morning, he didn't need to fantasise, just to remember, and whilst that satisfied the immediate need, it made it impossible to get over him. One day, he’d come and not 30 seconds later he’d cried as if in mourning. It wasn't fair, Harry was always so tantalisingly close and yet events seemed to forever conspire against him. His head was wrecked, he was always tired spending all his energy either on the unnatural phenomenon that was belated parenting or on trying to ensure his firm could get up and running and that he could support himself and his son into the future, his savings having been so ravaged by everything that had led up to this point. It was expensive to set up on your own and he didn't know how long it’d be before he’d actually be making money rather than using every penny left in his bank account. He was quietly grateful for his mum’s contacts as they’d used his services even though he and Marnie were not speaking. Once in a while, he craved her touch, her little caresses telling him everything would be alright because he didn't have that any more. He didn't have his mum to treat him like her little boy, he didn't have anyone to lean on, just someone so needing to lean on him.

He was lost, he knew it, barely treading water and short of ideas on how to make things better, get through this. But what could he do? When it came to family and friends, all he had was a 17 year old boy and - if he allowed himself to think it - a 21 year old, with no money, no home and no future mapped out; the 21 year old was even naïve enough to think James was the key to his happiness, and that this was enough. Being with Ste had put paid to any notions of an education beyond catering out of a van and learning how to deal with his demanding little sprogs. He’d left the boy with no prospects, no means and no ambitions. A part of James wanted nothing more than to support him through university so that he could get back on track and re-find his agency but he was in no position now to support another mouth. He was also too exhausted to begin to think he could handle the emotions being with the man he loved would entail. Even when Harry had returned and said all the right things, James was terrified of losing him again, his chest tight with all the negative anticipation. How could he live in the moment when every moment could be the last? The fear clawed into him and wouldn’t let go - if there was anything life had taught him, it was to expect the worst and sometimes even he couldn’t anticipate what horror was waiting in store for him.

His new firm, or what existed of it, was taking up so much of his time but as he was mainly based at home for now, he could keep an eye on Romeo. He’d try to set aside time to eat lunch together but after, his son was out and about, doing what he was never sure but neither school nor employment. He had plenty of food in - an absolute necessity with Romeo about - but he wanted some fresh air so decided he needed a couple more things for dinner. On his way to the shops, his mind elsewhere, he turned the corner to the alleyway near Price Slice and almost collided into someone. “Watch where you’re…” he began, angrily, until he saw it was Harry.

“Harry,” he said, the surprise etched on his face.

“James.”

“How… How are you?”

“Great,” Harry replied, seemingly already regretting his sarcasm.

“Where are you staying? With Zack?”

“Yep, but I think Simone’s patience is wearing thin.”

James swallowed uncomfortably knowing there was no easy solution.

“How’s it going with Romeo?”

“Yeah, good. He eats a lot. A bit like you,” James smiled to himself, before pursing his lips as if he’d said something wrong. Then Harry blind-sided him.

“I know I shouldn't say this but I miss you.” James’s face was a picture of discomfort but Harry continued. “I know you don’t think we can be together, and I know you've got to focus on your son, but it doesn't stop me loving you.”

“You’re going to have to try,” James replied sincerely. He knew he couldn't do the same so he just hoped Harry would be made of sterner stuff.

“Why?”

“Because I'm working day and night at the moment, all hours, to get my firm up and running. Because I've got a kid at home who’s messed up and just waiting for me to let him down. I don’t have any spare capacity, Harry, and…” His emotions were caught in his throat. He was so exhausted by everything and just speaking to Harry was bringing him to the verge of tears, a sure sign if anything he couldn't cope with any relationship between them right now.

“Let me help you. And before you reject me out of hand,” Harry continued quickly, his hand held out to stop any words leaving James’s mouth, “I just mean I'm not doing anything else with myself at the moment and you need another pair of hands. I'm just talking about helping you with your firm, or cooking dinner for you and Romeo or something - just things I can do to lighten your burden. And if all that means is that you get an extra hour of sleep, it’ll be worth it.”

“I can’t…” Tears flooded from his eyes, his breath catching every few seconds as he uselessly tried to stop crying. He let Harry hold him and finally gave in to his emotions, leaning against Harry who had the wall to support him.

“You’re trying to do too much by yourself, you silly fool,” he said affectionately. “Tell me what I can do to help - paperwork, promo, cooking, whatever. I don’t want anything in return, just to help.”

James had only heard some of that through his sobbing but he got the gist and was grateful. As his breaths calmed down, he could finally speak. “I just want to sleep,” he laughed, his face wet with tears. 

“Then let’s get you home to bed, and I’ll sort you guys a meal for tonight, okay? If Romeo comes back, I’ll explain.”

“I've still got lots of work to do,” James said, though they continued back towards the flat.

“Set an alarm and give yourself a nap. When you wake up, you can let me know if there’s anything I can help with. Okay?”

They didn't speak again as they walked home. James disappeared to his room and Harry took a moment before checking what ingredients were available for dinner.

-

An hour later, James emerged, almost a new man. Harry sat down with him and together they were able to formulate a plan for how Harry could help out. It mainly involved cooking or running errands so that James could work undisturbed from home, and over the next few days, Harry noticed James would dress in a suit regardless of whether he had clients to see or not. Harry supposed it helped him to enter the right frame of mind though he also wondered if it had something to do with pride. He thought it was cute, nonetheless, and somewhat admirable. James was so vulnerable but he’d just get on with things and there was no palaver, no chaos around. In fact, the house was mainly very quiet - in the evenings, James would put on some music if he was working and even Romeo wouldn't tease him about his choices as he could see the dedication it took to make this business into something. In the daytime, Romeo was mainly out, though he’d always return for lunch. James was right, Harry thought, Romeo ate huge portions - between the three of them, it was like cooking for a grown family of 5. Harry had asked Simone if he could help at Price Slice in return for her hospitality which she’d been grateful for but insisted on paying him cash. He would spend the money on helping out with groceries at the Lovedays as a thank you, and James’s expensive items aside, the bulk of the groceries there too. He felt much better about himself knowing he was putting himself to use. It was a wrench to go back to the Lovedays each night after dinner but Harry was grateful for the time he got to spend with James and the fact he’d let him back into his life. His heart had been crushed that day that James had reneged on his offer to have him move in and though he understood completely, it was utterly painful. He’d been scared to ask Simone if he could stay longer after all but she liked the fact he made Zack happy and Harry sensed she may have wanted her son occupied at the moment. With everything that had happened with Louis, he wasn't surprised.

He’d also gotten to know Romeo a bit. He didn't talk that much; Harry wasn't sure if that was simply because he was focused more on eating or whether it was awkward for him with Harry there though James had said he was the same when it was just him and Romeo. In fact, James had come out explicitly to say mealtimes were easier when Harry was there as it took the pressure off of him to lead the conversation. On the sixth night and their eleventh meal together, Romeo finally offered up an anecdote about his day and Harry caught himself smiling at the fact he was becoming more relaxed with them. James caught it too and looked away quickly when their eyes met, not speaking again for the entire meal. He excused himself as Harry and Romeo cleared up and Harry put on a brave face until they’d finished the washing and drying up and he’d left.

-

James lay on the bed trying to forget what he’d felt when he’d seen Harry smile to himself during Romeo’s story. He’d tried at the table to not be moved by the fact Harry genuinely seemed to care about this weird trio of outsiders bonding, and that he seemed dead set on cultivating that. His caution had slipped and he’d let his mind wander to the idea of the three of them being some oddball family, risen from the ashes of their own disappointing ones and the blood relatives who would never care about them as much as they wanted them to. The years he’d wasted trying to get Mac to love him, trying to get his mother to choose him, trying to get his siblings to like him. Maybe now, in the strangest of ways, the solution had found its way to him over lasagne. But no, this was ridiculous, James knew better than to dream. A week ago, he was at his wit’s end and things could change back just as quickly. He heard the door shut, Harry leaving, and he got up to get a glass of water. Romeo was still there in the kitchen, engrossed by his phone but he looked up when James came in.

“I thought you were having an early night.”

“No, just had some work to do.”

“Harry just left,” Romeo said, keeping his eyes on his father.

“Did he?” James said casually, as if unaware.

“He’s actually alright. I mean, he thinks he’s funny and he’s not, but…”

James smirked awkwardly as he filled his glass from the fridge. His ears burned as he felt Romeo’s gaze but the boy simply put his phone in his pocket and said goodnight, wandering off to his room.

James swallowed a big gulp of water and toyed with the phone in his own pocket. He couldn't give in now, it would only lead to more pain and ruin whatever was going on currently. He wanted to see Harry badly, he wanted to get carried away but instead he texted him to thank him for the past week and that he hoped to see him tomorrow.

-

Harry did turn up the next day but he seemed in a funny mood, less upbeat, and James left him to it. He was making curry from scratch and soon, the living room was filled with the smell of spices which became somewhat of a distraction. James came into the kitchen passing behind Harry, saying a little joke as he looked into the pot and lightly kissed the back of his neck, surprising them both. Harry spun around, James stood frozen, shocked at himself.

“James?”

James didn't even know what to say. What was he thinking? Had he even been thinking? It had been like a reflex, done almost unwittingly. Now he just stood like a rabbit in the headlights.

“James, did… did you just kiss me?”

“It was an accident.” He moved to go but Harry grabbed his wrist so that he’d stay.

“It doesn't have to be.”

“Romeo’ll be home in a minute.”

“I didn't… mean that. I meant, we can stop pretending we don’t mean that to each other.”

“No one’s pretending, we've said how we feel. And we know why it can’t happen.”

“I don’t. Three weeks ago, I did. Last week, I did. Now, I don’t.”

“Because…” James started to say but Harry moved towards him backing him against the breakfast bar. Their lips met and suddenly they were kissing frantically. Harry could already feel James hard against him, then came the sound of the key in the lock. James gently pushed Harry off of him in time for Romeo not to see them together, and as the boy came through the door, Harry shouted for him to catch before lobbing his wallet at him. “Bay leaves!”

“What?” Romeo asked, confused.

“I'm making a curry but I need bay leaves. Come on, quicker you’re back, quicker we can eat.” Romeo obeyed and shut the door behind him, Harry smiling at their lucky escape but the smile was soon wiped off his face.

“I told you,” James scolded. “I knew this would happen.”

“What? Your son walking in when you've got a stiffy? I'm pretty sure it was my quick thinking that saved you so I think the word you’re looking for is thank you.”

“Thank you?” James said, incredulously. “You put us in that position with your recklessness.”

“Oh, like I knew you’d get hard in two seconds. And you kissed me. You might, er, wanna control yourself, James.” Harry was fuming now as well, James a mix of fear, anger and embarrassment, his head foggy from the panic and from going from one emotion to the next at breakneck speed. They both stood unable to speak until Harry looked at James’s face, his emotions painted across his brow.

“You’re right, James. It was reckless, I'm sorry. Of course you don’t want Romeo to see you like that.” He felt a pang of guilt now. “He didn't see you though. I mean, he just saw you were stood there, that’s all. I’ll get you a whiskey, it’ll calm you down.”

“I can’t drink,” he snapped back. “I've got a ton of work to do.”

Harry softened his voice. “I know you do. But you can’t work like this, can you? Just a drop,” Harry said pouring in enough for two large sips. James downed it in one, looking stressed but no longer stressed at Harry. “It never happened.”

But it had happened, and once James had recovered from all the negative associations, later that night, when he was in bed and Harry hadn't come over to help them polish off the rest of the curry for dinner, he remembered how desperate he’d been for Harry’s lips. They couldn't have kissed for more than 6 or 7 seconds but James had been that hungry for him, it was impossible to deny. Harry may have found it amusing but James had most certainly not. He’d felt humiliated, not just by Romeo’s untimely entrance but by the fact his body acted with no decorum, betraying him in an instant. Is this the kind of father he was to be? Acting like a teenager with a man half his age whilst the real teenager existed quietly, cleaning up after himself, barely leaving a trace?

He was determined not to emulate his mother, putting a man first over his son. He wanted to do this right, and at least know he’d put his all into it. Harry though had been facilitating this, he’d made mealtimes more homely, more family-like; it wasn't just two guys who didn't know what to do or say. And it was obvious to James that he wanted things to work - he’d been great with him over the past few days, calmly dispatching any bad-tempered words and loyally turning up each day to cook and see if James needed him to go to the post office or the shops. James didn't want to ignore that, nor minimise it - it was sweet of him, and had taken a weight of his shoulders. He was sleeping better, less stressed but the pay-off was that he was stupidly in love with the young man; utterly and undeniably.

James was at a loss. He knew that Harry genuinely cared but he also knew that in the long-term, he wanted them to be together properly. Harry wanted to share his bed, wake up in the morning next to him, carry on this weird family scenario as if it was the most normal thing in the world. James didn't really know what normal was so he supposed rolling with the idea wasn't so terribly strange in that context but he was fearful, always so fearful. If Harry abandoned them, the whole house of cards would come crashing down and then where would he be? In pain again. He’d lost Harry a number of times but he’d also never really had him. This time would be different, more difficult and James already found it almost impossible to cope with their previous back and forths. Each time their relationship had taken a step back, he’d felt like a teenager dealing with a first love but not sure what to do with his emotions, not sure what those emotions really were apart from excruciating. This time, he was really playing with fire.

He felt sad that he couldn't even speak to Marnie about this, the only person he’d ever felt even vaguely comfortable discussing his relationships with. He wanted guidance but guidance was no longer at hand. He had to figure it out, muddle through, just like with fatherhood, and likely he’d get so much of it wrong. The trouble was, he was so scared of losing people that he couldn't always enjoy what he had when he had it. He sometimes wondered whether he’d be happier if he was more stupid, working for minimum wage and living for the weekend. He saw people who found great joy in the mundane. They probably couldn't afford nice wine or cashmere jumpers but they were happy. James often felt like he didn't know how to be happy, even when things he wanted were presented to him. He could fuck Harry if he wanted to - he was there on a plate, that much was clear - but what that would then mean, he didn't know. If he indulged now, would that mean a future devoid of the opportunity? Would that mean the only child he would ever have would turn his back? What did Romeo mean when he said Harry was alright? Why was he asking after him at dinner? Did he want him to be there? Or did he find their unexplained relationship off-putting? He never really knew what Romeo was thinking but he’d noticed that he seemed to act funny with him about Harry.

At lunch, the conversation had been stilted and Harry had left saying there was enough for dinner. James felt he’d been a tad short with him in the aftermath of that little incident in the kitchen - maybe he’d scared Harry off. Maybe Harry didn't want to come over unless they were intimate. It was hard to know but in a moment of madness, James broke and called him. As the phone rang, he suddenly panicked and was in two minds as to whether to drop the call but in his hesitation, Harry answered.

“James?”

“Hi, I, er, I wanted to check you were alright.”

“What, because I didn't come over? You had enough food.”

“Right… Well, I just thought you might have wanted to come over anyway.”

“What for, James? I don’t even know if you like me being there. Or if you’re just tolerating me because I’m helping out.”

“Harry, that’s not… you know I want you there.”

“You've got a funny way of showing it.”

“What, are you angry with me over what happened? I was just upset, you can understand that?”

“So I just continue to come over, spend an hour a day with you and Romeo before I leave again for Simone’s sofa?”

“Hang on, you said you didn't want anything in return?”

“I didn't but then today, I couldn't have felt more unwelcome. After everything I'm doing, you couldn't stop yourself from making me feel guilty. ‘Cause what, I kissed you in your own house?”

“It wasn't that. I was frustrated, embarrassed, but…”

“Do you even know that you hurt me? Do you care?”

“I… okay, Harry, I’ll admit I didn't think of it like that. I was wound up and I acted selfishly. It’s not an excuse but I'm really confused by everything right now. I'm trying to be a father to a son I didn't know I had and I've got my… my… see? I don’t even know what to call you.”

“Well, as long as kissing is a capital offence, I'm just a mate helping out,” Harry said bitterly.

“I didn't ask you to.”

“Great, well, if you don’t want me there, why am I bothering?”

“I do want you there. I want you full stop, you know that.”

“Well, then…?” Harry despaired.

“I've got to put Romeo first, I thought you understood.”

“I do understand. I just don’t understand why that means we've got to take some sort of vow of chastity. Do you think Romeo doesn't know we’re more than friends?”

“Has he said something to you?”

“James, are you blind? He doesn't have to. Plus, he knows we were together before the wedding. Maybe it’s confusing for him too, not knowing how to relate to me. He can see I'm not with Ste, that I'm round your house every day. You don’t think he’d be okay if in his head, he could think 'Right, well that’s my dad’s boyfriend’ instead of trying to guess what the hell’s going on?”

James thought back to a few weeks ago when Romeo was helping him ruin, and then ensure, Harry’s wedding to Ste. But that was for money, he didn't know what Romeo actually thought about it all. “My mother was always putting Mac first. I don’t want to put Romeo through that.”

“This isn't the same. You’re not choosing me over Romeo, and I've never done anything to upset him. If he sees we’re serious about each other, he might feel happier, you know, with a more complete family.”

“And if we break up again?”

“Why would we do that? We love each other, and I mean properly, wanting the best for each other. Or would you rather he see you bring home some random each time you decide you've gone too long without?”

James left a long silence on the phone.

Harry sighed audibly but changed tack. “Do you want me to come over tomorrow or do you want me to stay away? Simone offered me a shift and I said I’d let her know.”

“No. Come for dinner. I’ll cook.”

Harry agreed and hung up, leaving James mulling it all over in his head. He didn't know what he’d say to Romeo or how he’d bring it up, but maybe there was a non-awkward way that’d come to him in the moment. For now, sleep called.

-

The Bolognese was on a low heat when Romeo returned for lunch. He got plates and cutlery out and leant lazily on the breakfast bar in anticipation.

“Just us?”

“Yeah, I thought, you know, for lunch. Would you like Harry round for dinner?”

Romeo shrugged.

“Or do you not like him coming round? You can be honest.”

“I don’t mind.”

James would have to find more creative ways to elicit a meaningful response. It made him too uncomfortable to ask directly so he just continued to muddle through. “He mentioned coming over, maybe?” James looked at Romeo, almost pleading with him to read between the lines.

Romeo seemed to sense it because his voice was full of exasperation when he responded. “James, if you want him over, just say. Or just have him over anyway, it’s your flat.”

James plated up, his discomfort tangible. With just them there, he decided to forgo using the table and just set the plates at the breakfast bar. “Here you go.”

Romeo sighed impatiently. “I know you still love him and it’s obvious he loves you too. I think it’s stupid if you’re not going to be together. Why do people make it so complicated? Why does Harry live on someone’s sofa when he could be here?”

James was taken aback. “I… wanted to focus on us. I thought that’s what you would've wanted?”

“I like it here. It’s cool you’re trying, but if the girl I liked wanted to be with me, I wouldn't need convincing.”

“Is there a girl?”

“Doesn't matter. What I'm saying is if someone you love loves you, grab hold of it with both hands. And honestly,” Romeo continued, “this together/not-together thing you have going on is weird.”

James laughed a little, embarrassed. “You don’t mind? You get on, don’t you?”

“He’s fine, I don’t really have a strong opinion either way. I can see why you like him though,” he said, evidently enjoying his sly comment.

James blushed even more, his neck going a dark shade of pink.

-

Harry came over after his shift to find Romeo cooking in the kitchen.

“Oh, I didn't know you cooked, Romeo?”

“My mum isn't exactly Gordon Ramsay. She did most of her cooking on spoons.” Seeing Harry’s face, he cut in again. “That was supposed to be a joke.”

“Oh, yeah, course,” Harry laughed with relief. James walked in and smiled awkwardly at Harry. “I thought you said you’d be doing the cooking? Found someone else to delegate to, I see?”

“Romeo’s helping me. A joint effort,” James replied, looking like a shy boy on his first day of school. “Does anyone want a drink? There’s a nice bottle of wine breathing on the side.”

Harry was grateful for it. He felt… nervous, somehow. He didn't know what had changed but there was a strange energy in the room. James seemed nervous too but Romeo seemed to ooze confidence today from out of nowhere. As they sat down to eat, he had a naughty grin on his face which Harry found disconcerting. They wolfed down food continuously for the first couple of minutes before Harry finally broke the silence.

“Did, um, you make much progress today, James?”

“Yeah, I managed to convince an old client of mine to jump ship and he’s quite lucrative.”

“Oh, great. Well done.”

“How was your day at work, Harry?” asked Romeo, smiling. “You must be on your feet all day. I can imagine your back gets quite sore.”

James looked round, alarmed.

“It was just for a few hours,” Harry replied, a little confused. “I do quite a bit of work on my back when I go to the gym though, that sorts it out.

"Do you go to the gym a lot?”

“Most days.”

Romeo mumbled something under his breath that Harry didn't quite catch but he caught James giving him a warning look.

As they finished off their plates, James tried to raise the tone. “I made these little tiramisus if you’d like to stay for dessert? Or coffee?”

“Yeah, both sound nice, thank you.”

“I just remembered,” Romeo blurted out. “There’s a film on I wanted to see. James, did you have any cash on you?”

He took a twenty from James, grabbed his coat and left.

“Okay, what’s going on?”

“What do you mean?”

“Romeo’s acting weird. Did you mention anything? About what we talked about last night?”

“No,” James dismissed casually. “I did manage to… take a temperature reading. I may be becoming more comfortable with the idea.”

“With what idea?”

James took Harry by the hand and drew him up from his seat. He looked into his eyes for a couple of seconds before kissing him. Harry broke it off to look at James’s face and check he wasn't teasing. He looked serious.

“Do you want to stay tonight?” Harry really wanted to ask what that meant, if James had allowed for one night off from his anxiety about their relationship, or whether this was him restarting their relationship for real, but he didn't want to ruin the moment. James wanted to sleep with him and he was inviting him to stay over. Harry looked at him without giving much away but there must have been enough of a hint of affirmation as James’s lips curled upwards and he slid off his belt.


	2. February

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based in the aftermath of Donna-Marie's funeral.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter has been previously published elsewhere. Devised early Feb.

Romeo looked back towards the open grave, James standing over it. He was talking to it, he thought. He watched for a few moments until he noticed James was… angry, maybe? He decided to walk back towards where James was, the rest of the crowd now well ahead on their way to their cars, when, no, had his father just spit into the grave?

Romeo ran up to him in a rage. “Oi, that’s my mum, what do you think you’re doing?”

James didn't respond. His face was sour, bitter even, and he just turned his gaze beyond Romeo and walked past him. Romeo turned around and grabbed at the arm of James’s coat. “What the hell?”

“Get off,” was his emotionless reply.

“After you spit into my mum’s grave? You said you only came here for me, now suddenly you’re desecrating her memory.”

“Leave me alone." James shook him off and marched unrepentantly after the crowd now at the main road.

Romeo was both outraged and perplexed. How could James do that? Why would he do something so heinous and not even feel sorry about it? It didn't bother him that Romeo had seen, it didn't bother him that his kid had just buried his mother. He’s not getting into the hearse, Romeo vowed to himself, but when he reached the others himself, James was nowhere to be seen.

It was a slow ride back to the wake. Juliet rested her head on his shoulder the whole way, his arm around her cold little body. The wake was pitiful, most of the people at The Dog weren't even there for his mum and it wasn't exactly full. Juliet had taken charge of the music, insisting some of her favourite songs were Donna-Marie’s, or at least reminded her of her late mother. Romeo sat sullenly in the corner, eating the spread that largely went untouched, watching his sister in case her mood suddenly elevated, a sure sign of trouble.

"Romeo." Harry appeared, black tie despite not having been at the burial. "How was it? Sorry I wasn't there.”

“I know James asked you not to go. You don’t have to protect him.”

Harry’s eyes flickered awkwardly but he didn't deny it. “Well I'm here now. Do you want a drink?”

“I'm not sure that’s a good idea.”

“I meant a beer. Not half a bottle of whiskey.”

Harry brought back a pint and a lager top and crashed down next to Romeo on the bench seat. Romeo picked up his pint but didn't say a word. Harry looked out across the room, Marnie nursing a wine whilst Cindy talked at her, seemingly not needing to pause for breath. Marnie looked like she was barely listening though she looked up at one point and caught his eye, looking away before he could smile at her. It was a depressing wake, made even more so by Juliet’s tacky choice of songs, a random rock classic occasionally jarring against the general diet of current pop and EDM. He didn't want to be here, he wanted to find James, but it was Romeo’s mum’s funeral and he didn't want to just leave like James apparently had.

“What would your mum play if she were here?”

“Not this.”

Harry tried again. “She have a favourite song?”

“Don’t Stop Me Now by Queen.”

“Ah, that’s a classic,” Harry lighting up for the first time in days.

“What does it matter now? She’s dead.”

Harry lifted his pint. “Resting in peace, hey?”

“Are you mad?” Romeo got up from the table and out of the front door.

Harry clambered after him. “Hey, Romeo!”

He span round, angrily. “She’s not resting in peace, alright, because your boyfriend fucking gobbed on her grave.”

“Wait, what?”

“Yeah. I had to beg him to come in the first place and then he goes and does that. I wish he’d never been there, I wish I’d never met him.” Romeo wiped the tears from his cheek with the heel of his hand and looked angrily towards the flat. “You hear that, James?” he shouted.

“Is he at home? Now?”

“I don’t care. You got money for another one?”

“Maybe you shouldn't.”

“If you want to keep me away from him, you’ll at least give me a tenner.”

Harry grudgingly obliged. His head was doing all sorts of gymnastics, it was probably better he went to see James alone.

-

Harry turned his key in the lock not knowing what he’d find on the other side, if James was even there. Would he really spit on a dead woman’s grave? There had to be an explanation.

James was there all right. Some opera singer warbled on in the background, as James was draped on the sofa, a glass in hand. Seems like someone had opted for that half bottle of whiskey.

“James, no,” said Harry, impotently.

James looked up from where he was sat and smiled. “Come join me, Harry, let’s have a good time.” His speech was slurred, his tie so loose he was in danger of getting his arm caught in it.

“Let’s get that from you,” Harry said, walking over to James and trying to grab his glass off him too.

“No. It’s not over ‘til the fat lady sings.” James laughed as a soprano belted out from the speakers.

Harry strode over to the stereo and switched it off. James crashed back into the sofa, his glass precariously horizontal yet the last few drops remained unspilled. With his hands clasped behind his head, Harry looked down at James, upset, disappointed, worried. “Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what? Toasting that dead witch?”

Harry sat on the sofa, pulling James’s legs onto his lap. “She’s gone now.”

“But not forgotten, eh? I think I was running out of new family members to add to my collection anyway.”

“At least you've got Romeo. Things are going really well with you. Well, until today.”

“Yeah,” said James sucking his teeth.

“He… he said you did something at her graveside.”

“How was I supposed to know he’d come back? Everyone had left.”

“So you did do it? You spat on her?”

“On her coffin, which was covered in handfuls of dirt and cheap flowers. It wasn't as cathartic as I’d hoped,” he lamented.

“Why did you do it?”

“We all have our own ways of saying goodbye.”

“James.”

“Because I was sixteen, Harry. And the day before that, I was fifteen. Is that clear enough for you?”

It wasn't clearer. Was he saying that he regretted having sex so young? That he was too young to use a prostitute? Had it been his first time? Harry didn't know much about it - it had surprised him, of course. He hadn't envisaged James doing that whilst still at school, and with a woman. But he’d been classically evasive on the subject and Harry knew not to push things, especially when they’d only been in each other’s lives for a few weeks since the revelation.

James drained his glass and sat it on the table. Harry took his newly freed hand which James tried and failed to wrestle away from him. "I know you must have your reasons. I just wish you’d tell me why she bothers you so much.“

"We did use a condom, you know,” he finally said. “But I couldn't get it up so she took it off, kept telling me it’d feel better, not to be nervous.” James sniffed. “I wasn't nervous, I felt sick, sicker still when she finally got me up.”

Harry was startled. He had a horrendous feeling with where this story was going but he didn't want to interrupt.

“She told me to lie down. I didn't know where to look. Did I stare at the ceiling? Close my eyes? She got on top of me, she kept… talking. I felt disgusted but it’s like my body didn't know that because it stayed up, it stayed up right to the end. It felt like ages and then, yep, it was done. It didn't feel good, not even in that moment. She wouldn't shut up afterwards either. She said she knew I could do it, like a kid who’s learned to ride his bike without stabilisers. Except it wasn't that, it wasn't some innocuous, benign thing. It was the worst day of my life. And her being around has made it impossible not to think about it every single day, to relive the terror, that feeling of pathetically letting her handle me, her stupid encouragement in my ear like I wanted it.”

Harry passed James a tissue, his ears pounding, his breaths shallow with disgust.

James continued, like all the words had to come out in this moment. “Juliet, for her sixteenth, found out Mac was her father. For my sixteenth, I got to find out to just what lengths my father would go to show me he hated me, and worst of all, dress it up as love. He was never going to think any better of me regardless of what went on in that room but I still did it. This pathetic little queer desperate for daddy’s approval.”

“Hey. Hey! Don’t turn this on yourself,” Harry intervened angrily. “They did this to you. They were adults and you were a kid. A gay kid.”

“I thought I’d feel more peaceful with her dead but I just felt angry. Angry that I couldn't do anything to her now. A bit of saliva, who gives a fuck? It didn't help with anything!”

Harry grabbed James and brought him in close. He could taste whiskey coming through his sweat as he kissed his face, the air thick with Laphroaig. He couldn't believe James had kept this in, couldn't believe he’d not seen it himself. Of course James wouldn't have gone to a female prostitute at sixteen of his own volition. Marnie had said only recently how sweet he was when he was younger. And then his father and Donna-Marie had conspired in his rape.

“James, she… she raped you, okay?”

James jumped up off the sofa. “I'm not some victim. I'm not some…”

“No, you’re right, you’re not a victim. You’re strong, and incredibly brave,” Harry went on ignoring James scoffing. “But they did that to you, and I'm going to make sure Mac never hurts you ever again.”

“How? By erasing my entire life?! ‘Cause that disease-addled junkie is in the ground. It’s not enough for them to be dead, the memories don’t leave you. Their words in your head don’t leave you.”

The front door opened, Romeo stood in the frame. He looked like he’d had more than a second beer.

“Alright daddy?” he said sardonically. “Enjoy the funeral, did we?”

Panic flashed in Harry’s eyes. “No, Romeo, not now.”

“Not now? My mum’s dead and he sullied her resting place.”

“That woman was so sullied who would notice the difference?” James swayed a little as he spoke, his dead eyes on his son.

At that moment, Romeo went to leap forward but he was held back by Marnie who’d just appeared behind him. Harry pushed James all the way to the bedroom, his body heavy from the alcohol. James fell backwards onto the bed, dragging Harry with him. “James, you need to sleep.”

“Stay with me.”

“I need to sort out this mess.”

“Oh. He leaves again,” James said laughing sadly. “That’s what he does, he leaves.”

“You’re wasted. Go to sleep.”

“Can’t bear to look at me any more?”

Something smashed in the kitchen. Harry didn't want to leave James feeling vulnerable, he wanted to be much more of a rock for him than he felt he could be right now but he also needed to check Marnie was okay with Romeo, that whatever had smashed hadn't been aimed in her direction. “I’ll be back in a minute, okay?”

Harry came out into the living room. Romeo was stood remorsefully at the far end of the room whilst Marnie picked up bits of broken glass from under the table. “I’ll do that,” he said quickly, scooching down next to her.

“It’s alright. I've got most of it ”

“What happened?” he said, turning to Romeo.

“I didn't…”

“It was nothing, Harry. Romeo knocked James’s glass across the room in a quick fit of anger. It’s over and he’s sorry. Aren't you, Romeo?”

“Yeah. I'm sorry, Marnie.”

“Harry, Romeo and I are going to have a little chat. I suggest you do the same with James.”

“He’ll be dead to the world,” said Harry, baulking at his poor turn of phrase as he made eye contact with the boy who’d just lost his mum. He continued in a hushed tone. “I'm not leaving you with him. He’s been drinking and we don’t know him well enough to know what his limits are.”

In reality, he also wanted to have some control over what information would flow to Romeo. He didn't know what Marnie knew, if anything, but he also didn't want James’s past being spread without his consent, even if Marnie was doing it with the best of intentions. 

Marnie rolled her eyes as she conceded defeat. “Romeo, go to your room.”

Romeo went to argue but, perhaps still feeling bad about smashing that glass, he shuffled off.

“What were you going to tell him?”

“None of your business!” Marnie retorted. 

“Was it anything to do with his conception?” Harry could tell from her reaction that she wasn't completely innocent to what had happened. “James wouldn't want him to know. Not like this.”

“I'm doing it to protect him. Romeo’ll never understand why he did what he did unless he comes clean.”

“Comes clean? It’s not a confession. He did nothing wrong.”

“Apart from spit on his son’s mother’s grave in full view of him like a complete lunatic. How do you explain that away? Want to give it a go?” Marnie tapped her nails against the counter. “This family has been torn apart by lies. I've been involved in enough myself to know.”

“And how’s Romeo going to feel? Knowing he was the product of rape?”

“What happened to James was terrible. His father has a lot to answer for, and I hope he does one day answer for his litany of crimes. You probably know as well as me by now that James sometimes just does things. He allows one little thought to catch hold of him and suddenly, he gets tunnel vision until the destruction is complete. And here we are picking up the pieces, quite literally.”

“Marnie, please. At least give him the chance to tell Romeo himself when they’re both sober.”

“Perhaps you’re not the silly young boy I had you down for.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“I just want his happiness too. As a mother, as a mother of someone like James, you start to believe that it might not ever be possible. Because underneath every good thing that he might have in his life, lies a darkness no light can wash away.”

Marnie gave Harry a sympathetic look before collecting her bag off the floor and heading out. Harry looked around the room, the weight of the day heavy on his shoulders. It was a lot to compute. He’d always just thought it was physical abuse, emotional abuse maybe. Not this. It went far deeper than even he’d suspected. He knew James was the type to hold back, that’s why he’d been so surprised earlier when James had been so open with him. Of course, a lot of that had been the alcohol, but he suspected the inability of Donna-Marie’s death to mark the change James was expecting had left him feeling utterly powerless and needing to reclaim some semblance of control. Whether that was to befoul her grave or tell Harry his story in his own words, he hoped James felt lighter and that Marnie was wrong. 

He went back to the bedroom and got in behind James, squeezing up close to him. James, woken by Harry’s presence, drew his hand up to his chest and immediately fell asleep again.


	3. March

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Romeo opens up to Harry about Donna-Marie before he finds out about Harry's past with prostitution and James' involvement.

Romeo sat forward so he didn't have to make eye contact with Harry. "No one understands what it's like to have a mum who sells her body for money, who lets all those disgusting men do what they want to her, those men who don't care why she's doing it, what place her head is in, as long as they get to have sex. And to know that me and Juliet... we're a result of that. I know James was young, probably tryna impress his mates or something, but Mac, he was exactly the sort of man I wanted to protect her from. You never know if they'll get violent or what they'll do 'cause people don't respect prostitutes. They're not humans to them, they're vessels. At times, I've had to try to love my mum," he said, looking disgusted with himself. "To do what she's done all this time, she's had to shut herself off, cut away a part of her to deal with it. She doesn't love herself and she doesn't know how to properly love other people. So you try to be that love for the both of you but it doesn't work. You just end up in a mess. And you accept it 'cause what else have you got?"  


Harry leaned forward too. "I hope now, maybe not right away but in a bit, you'll feel like... James," he said catching himself, "can fill that void. I know what it's like to have parents that don't care about you."  


"Tony and Diane?"  


"Diane's not my mum." Harry left a silence as he thought of his elusive mother, the one he could never turn to in times of need and she didn't even know what he'd done in his life. "But yeah, Tony."  


"I never see you two together. Did you fall out?"  


"It's a long story."  


"Cause you're gay, or...?"  


"No, nothing like that, though he doesn't like James."  


"No one around here seems to, but, I dunno, he's not... he's not like what I heard. At least he cares."  


"Yeah, he does," Harry replied, his face serious.  


"And he's been really good with Juliet."  


"Family means a lot to him. They're just not always as good to him as he is to them. But it doesn't matter to James. If you're related, you're in his circle... Mac aside. But that's for another day," he said, brightening his tone and getting up from the sofa. "The girls are back but if you ever wanna chat about anything, I hope you know you can."  


"Yeah, cheers," Romeo said, sincerely. 

-

Harry was walking back home when he saw Romeo outside. He looked angry and as he got closer, he saw his eyes were bloodshot.  
"I heard something today," the boy said as Harry approached. "And I don't know whether to believe it or not. I don't want to."  


"What was it?"  


"Someone said you were a prostitute. And James was your pimp."  


Harry panicked for a moment but tried to steady himself. "Er no, I..." It was no use lying about it, too many people knew. "I did do that for a while. Look, let's go inside."  


"And James?"  


The last thing Harry wanted was to have this discussion out in the open. He walked past Romeo towards the front door so they could go in.  


"Don't ignore me!"  


"I'm not, okay? Let's just talk about this inside."  


"So you can lie about it?"  


"No, I'll tell you the truth. Just, come in," Harry pleaded.  


Romeo reluctantly followed him in but after shutting the door behind him, remained stood where he was, arms folded.  


Harry could read a cue. "He was trying to help me."  


"By taking the money people were paying you?"  


"He didn't take any money, he'd find the clients, ones that were safe, but all the money went to me."  


"What a hero. And he never took a turn?"  


"What?"  


"Well he obviously liked you, and he paid my mum to sleep with him so maybe he paid you. Did he?"  


"Romeo..."  


"Did he ever pay you to sleep with him?"  


"It's not how it seems."  


"Well what's as it seems with you? Yesterday I was pouring my heart out to you about my mum being a prostitute, and you never said a thing! You just let me go on and on when you could have chimed in at any moment, stopped me feeling alone but you didn't. Why? Cause you didn't want me knowing James used to be your client? Or that he used to be your pimp?"  


"No. I just didn't wanna make it about me. I wanted you to feel safe sharing stuff with me."  


"But you're a liar. I was being totally honest and you were lying, then and now, about everything."  


"No. I wasn't. Look, James wasn't my client. It's hard to explain, our history's complicated. It's not that pretty, neither of us come out smelling of roses but you know what? We love each other, we look out for one another and I want you to be included in that."  


"Oh yeah, and how's that gonna work? Now that I know my dad is everything I hated growing up? That he's just like them?"  


"Except he's not. You know him better than that."  


"I've known him a few months."  


"Well I've known him a few years and he's loyal, generous and he cares a lot about the people around him, including you. We've all probably done things that don't flatter us."  


"He pimped you out and he paid you for sex."  


"Believe me, Romeo, he was trying to help me. I was on the streets, I'd been beaten up and I wouldn't stop. He just wanted me to be safe. Wouldn't you want the same for your mum?"  


"Mine and James's version of looking after people are completely different. He slept with you."  


"I wanted him to, okay? I... things were complicated back then but you know this is real. You see us every day, you know it's not messed up or one-sided. I love James; the past wasn't kind to us so it's best left there, that's all."  


"I don't know what to think."  


"I know. I know it's a lot to take in and I'm sorry I wasn't up front about my past. The last thing I wanted was to make you feel like you were right that no one could identify. But my mum wasn't a prostitute so I don't know what that's like. And James isn't the baddie here, he always looked out for me even when... His love isn't conditional. His family turned their back on him before and he still looked out for them. He'll always have your back, whatever you feel about him."  


"How can I respect him knowing what he's done? If that's his past?"  


"It's not. I haven't explained it well because it's hard to explain. We didn't get together in the conventional way but anything I say is gonna make it sound seedy and it's not. This is genuine."  


"If it's not seedy then how come nobody can tell me the truth? You know my background so how come it's a secret that you were selling yourself, and how come you haven't denied that my dad paid you for sex like he paid my mum?"  


Harry's eyes diverted to the door and Romeo turned around to see what he was looking at: James, his face contorted slightly, hurt, upset, mortified. "James," Harry called out, but he marched to the bedroom and shut the door behind him. "That's not who he is," Harry whispered desperately at Romeo, tears stinging his eyes. He got up and went towards the bedroom himself, Romeo could hear him knock against the door and James' angry response.  


None of this made any sense. He felt more confused after Harry's explanation than before and it upset him. He wasn't trying to pry into their private life but when your mother's spent your whole life on the game, feeding her drug addiction and then you hear your father, who you've started to look up to, has been on the other side of that, not just paying people for sex but managing it, controlling it in some way, it was devastating. Romeo felt such a fool, so naive. And now suddenly, he'd upset both James and Harry just for asking legitimate questions. 

-  


Harry approached James who was sat on the edge of the bed, facing the window. Suddenly, James grabbed a pillow and slammed it on the floor, a small cry leaving his lips in frustration. He couldn't control the situation, there was nothing he could do - all agency had been removed. Why had they been talking about him? Why were they going into such intimate detail? Why did Romeo know any of that?  


He felt Harry sit down on the middle of the bed behind him. James' body twitched away violently. "James, I'm sorry." He couldn't move; what could one say, how does one respond to such a situation? "He came to me with it, he heard it off someone else."  


James twisted around angrily. "And you couldn't refute it?!"  


"I didn't wanna lie to him."  


"Great. So I'm now precisely the sort of person he probably grew up wanting to murder." His face was red; he couldn't control his emotion, only enough to keep his voice down.  


"No. And I didn't say you were. Look, if you'd come in any earlier, you would've heard that."  


"Heard what?"  


"Me defending you."  


"Oh!! Well break out the harp, how romantic of you to defend me and my sordid transgressions."  


"I don't think of you as the guy who did that, okay, but that doesn't change the fact you did."  


"You made me pay you!"  


"Not the first time," he said too loudly.  


James reeled, like someone had stabbed him. "You gave it back."  


"So? You really think any of this sounds good on paper? How do you think it would sound to Romeo? Did you want me to go into all of the detail so I could try to explain to him what made it okay? Is that really what you want?"  


"Well, it's quite clear what you think of it all. I'm just, what? Some guy buying your time?"  


"You know that's not what I think."  


"I don't know, do I? You're quite happy to throw me under the bus to my own son."  


"That's not fair. I didn't deny it because I couldn't. You did offer me money, you did find me clients and I worked under your roof. I know you were trying to help me and I'm forever grateful for that, but if I denied it happened, I'd be a liar."  


"Oh, so now it's a problem for you?"  


Harry looked at James in disbelief. He felt so disappointed in that moment that he didn't want to say anything. James' eyes were wide, desperate, as he once again turned towards the window. He rubbed his hands on his face as if he were trying to erase the last few minutes. After a while, the silence was heavy, the air thick with the tension, and Harry had to break it. "Do you want me to go?"  


James turned around, caught off-guard. "No."  


"I never would have told him but he just seemed to know. I didn't have a prepared response, James. Who would? If you want me to go back out there and..."  


"No," James repeated. He hadn't yet figured out a strategy for trying to undo the damage. "What good's it now? My son thinks I'm a..." His voice trailed off. He could have been about to say a number of things but the words lay thicker in the imagination.  


"Don't hate me."  


"I don't," he said, honestly. "I don't hate you at all. Goodness." He gingerly placed his hand on Harry's and Harry grabbed it and held it tightly. James wanted to express himself better but he didn't know how. He felt so powerless to do anything about this and yet he knew Harry was right, that's what was most difficult. He had paid him, he had secured clients, he had done questionable things just to keep Harry around, to keep him in his life. He'd played games, seemingly incapable of a straightforward exchange, so rarely did he give a simple answer to a simple question. It seemed like so long ago, all that, like they'd been together for a lot longer than they had; somehow it all seemed to join up into one part. What hurt was that Harry could remember, he could remember before when things weren't quite so... wholesome. James couldn't feel proud of their past, he could probably never tell people how they got together, though of course the gossipers knew bits and pieces. It saddened James that he couldn't look back on their inception fondly, that he couldn't romanticise the past, and now he couldn't even kid himself that Harry might have seen it a different way. Of course he didn't. He saw what James did and what he tried to do. The fact he loved Harry didn't make any of that untrue. And now Romeo knew that too. Why would either of them want to associate with a man like that? 

Harry kissed his cheek. "What are you doing?" James asked, surprised.  


"I just want you to know none of that matters to me. I know you've always been there and I only see you as the man I love."  


"I started something without thinking of the consequences, without thinking ahead which is something I've always prided myself on. Without thinking of what impact my choices would have on a young man."  


"James, please. Stop. We're not defined by any of that, and you honestly weren't the reason I did it. Yeah, okay, you planted the seed but I've always known what I was doing. It was about Amy... Ryan, all that guilt I was carrying around. And I don't want you beating yourself up over it because I don't hold you responsible."  


James was not reassured but he was grateful to Harry for trying. All he could do now is try to be better, a better man and a better boyfriend. He still had the matter of his son to think about - a son who must by now have such a low opinion of him, he wondered whether it was redeemable. He wondered whether Romeo was still sat in the living room and what on earth he could say to him to win him round.  


"What do I say to Romeo?" he asked Harry.  


"I dunno. Maybe now's too soon."  


"I don't want him to be alone with his thoughts for hours, they'll fester into God knows what."  


"Maybe let him ask whatever he wants to ask. At least you'll know what he's thinking then."  


"And what are you thinking?"  


Harry paused for a moment. "I think I need a hug."  


James tentatively put his arms around him, Harry holding him tightly in response giving James the confidence to squeeze back. "I love you, Harry. I'll be better."  


"Just be you. You're the one I fell for."

-  


James went out into the living room which was now empty. "Romeo?" he called through the boy's bedroom door to no answer. "He's gone." He sat down on the sofa, hunched forward, lost.

"He probably just needs some space, James," Harry reassured him having followed him out. "He's got to process it."

"He thinks I'm the scum of the earth."

"He's accepted a lot about you, about us, and he's stuck around while this flat has turned into a hotel. He's not going anywhere. He probably just feels..."

"Betrayed," Romeo interrupted. "How could you do that?" he asked, staring at James. "Pay someone for sex? I never get it, wouldn't guys rather earn the affection rather than turn it into a transaction?"

"Romeo, I... I don't think it's that appropriate we talk about that side of things. I'm happy to answer any questions but... one's sex life is pretty personal."

"Are you kidding? Do you know how many times I've heard you and Harry go at it?"

James blushed but held fast. "I'm not going to talk about that with you, or anyone, frankly. But I know you're concerned about the whole... prostitution thing."

"Pimp thing," Romeo corrected. 

"That wasn't my finest hour...."

"He was trying to protect me," Harry interjected. 

"It's fine, Harry. I was... trying to keep Harry off the streets, Romeo, but you're right. I didn't present the right solution at the time. I..." James glanced at Harry. "Harry, can you... give us a moment?"

Harry was a little taken aback but he caught himself, knowing there was nothing wrong with wanting a little privacy in a delicate situation. "Don't blame yourself," he reminded James before grabbing his jacket and leaving, somewhat grateful for the air. 

James turned his attention back to his son. "I... I've loved Harry for a long time, long before he really entertained the idea of us being together. And at times, I didn't know what to do with that emotion. I didn't know how to be without him, and it may have affected the way I was when I was around him. I'm not justifying myself - and don't listen to Harry, it is my fault - but I never set out deliberately to do him harm. I felt, I still feel, deeply for him; it doesn't mean I always know what's right. I guess it can't have been so bad if he's chosen to be with me now?" James proffered, tentatively. 

"I don't like people being taken advantage of, especially not people who end up in prostitution."

"He came to me, after working on the streets, having been someone's punch bag. I may not have been thinking straight but it hurt me to see him like that. He's not destined to be some rent boy, he'll have a bright future ahead of him. I know we can turn this around."

"I can see that he's happy with you. Doesn't it bother you though, that he's used his body like that? I mean, he must have been with a lot of guys. Most people wouldn't want a relationship with someone who's done... you know?"

"I knew Harry before he got into all that. And no, it doesn't bother me in the way you say. It bothers me that he felt the need to do it, and it bothers me that I didn't try harder to make him stop. I... love him, have for the long time. It's not been your standard boy-meets-boy, probably not one for the grandkids," he added with a wry smile. "But that feels like an old chapter. Now we're living together, we're a family, all of us. And I'd protect every last one of you with everything I have."


End file.
